Growing up, I was in a children’s theater group. We performed two full scale musical productions a year. At the start of each new show, we had auditions, which were followed by the dreaded 1 Week Wait.
It was grueling. We came from all over central jersey to participate in this group, so most of us didn’t go to the same school. The week was full of phone calls, notes (the old fashioned kind, handwritten and expertly folded into a tiny little origami triangle), and more phone calls. Now, mind you, we couldn’t actually pass the notes to one another until we saw each other the following Saturday, but there was something therapeutic about writing them. There were no online blogs back then.
So we spent the week speculating, and over analyzing (“well, I messed up the dance audition a bit, but the part I want doesn’t dance much, so I doubt it will matter…”), and praying, and wishing, and making deals with a higher power for the parts we wanted. We tried to talk ourselves down to reality, in case our dreams did not come true. But even if you knew in your heart that you weren’t going to get your dream part, you held on to hope nonetheless.
Then, the big day arrived. The waiting was finally over. Soon, you would know the outcome and there would be no turning back. The hopes you had held on to all week would either be realized or shattered. The director handed out script by script, announcing each person’s part, in turn. Some shows, your wildest dream came true and there was nothing more glorious than hearing your name attached to the leading role you had been hoping for, and seeing it written on the script in your hands. Other years, you could feel your heart sink into your stomach the moment your hopes were shattered. And then of course there was the putting on a smile and forced support for your friends who DID get the parts they wanted. It wasn’t that you weren’t happy for them, it was just that you were so devastated for yourself.
I can not help but draw parallels between that dreaded 1 week wait, and this dreaded 2 week wait. Of course now, instead of twice a year, it’s 12 times a year, and I have yet to receive good news at the end of it. Nonetheless, I always find some hope to hold on to.
At 7dpo today, I have one week to go… and I sure hope I get the part I want…